It was sunset, with the last glimmer of light on the western horizon. As Lola and Spook ran along the ramp to the entry hatch above the ship's engine and pusher pad, the silver of the ship's curved side had an orange-yellow glimmer. Lola turned her head. She saw a lightning flash, high in the sky behind them, which, as she watched, blossomed into a rosette of crimson and white. And then the ramp cover was over them, and they were being hustled aboard.
Every passenger seat seemed to be taken, but a man wearing the grey uniform of Lunar Service gestured to them to sit down next to him on an attendant's foldaway bench. It was a space designed for only one person, and Lola and Spook could barely fit. She wriggled her hips, trying to avoid the seat arm. She had been to space before, and she knew how uncomfortable even a couple of gees of acceleration could be.
The hatch was closing. This was the time for a flight attendant to stand up and give them the usual three-minute lecture about safety procedures, exit points, and the use of belts, hatches, and free-fall barf bags.
But not today. Before Lola could fasten or even find her belt, a powerful vibration filled the cabin. The seat swiveled so that they were lying on their backs. She was pressed hard into the cushions. She heard Spook's grunt of protest. He was wedged in between her and the bony lunar serviceman.
"What's happening?" It was Lola's turn to ask that question.
"We're taking off." The man was almost too casual, and she noticed he was wearing the chevrons and crossed bars of the Lunar Defense League. She saw the name tag on his pocket: Audie Coline. "In a bit of a hurry," he went on. "Don't worry, though, we're perfectly safe."
"But those." Lola knew quite well that they were taking off—that's not what her question meant, and he must have known. One of the ship's small circular ports was on his left, and she lifted a lead-filled arm to point. Another rosette was blooming in the sky, on the northern horizon. Off to the west, the sun had reappeared as the ship lifted higher.
"Nothing to get excited about." Coline was answering her but he was turning to look at Spook, managing a grin that was turned oddly lopsided by the ship's acceleration. "The spaceports are operating on an emergency basis, and as you saw for yourselves they're totally screwed up. Heads should roll down there, because we've been expecting something like this for quite a while. We should have been ready. It's the Belt government's idea of a show of force, letting us know what they could do if they really tried. They've sent a bunch of probes into cislunar space."
"They're attacking Earth?" Lola was suddenly terrified, not for herself and Spook, but for the parents they had left behind.
"No. The probes have dummy warheads. The Belt wants to make the point that since they can beat our deep radar detection system, Earth and Mars should meet their economic demands. But the point they've actually made is quite different. See that?"
He gestured at the port next to him, apparently unaffected by the acceleration. The ship was curving off toward the east, already into the last minute of its laser-boost launch. Farther east and high above them, another bright blossom of light was growing. Beyond it the Moon was visible in its thin crescent phase.
"The Belt has just learned that the Armageddon Defense Line up there can pick off anything they send into cislunar space, without hardly trying. Wish I'd been on Luna to help. You can't see it without a scope, but we're targeting their probes and blowing them up."
"All of them?" Lola remembered the frightening ground vibration and failed lighting. "Something hit while we were in the tunnel on the way to the spaceport."
"Quite true." Coline seemed delighted. "The Armageddon line knocks off everything the Belt sends with no trouble at all—but some clown on Earth couldn't resist having a go with the ground-based spaceport perimeter defense. That equipment is half a century old, and it's never been used. They should have known it wouldn't work. And it didn't. One of the hi-vee projectors blew up when it was discharged. You felt it, and I saw it. And the power draw knocked out half the electricity supply lines. Thank goodness, the laser launchers are on independent power lines, or we'd still be sitting there." He laughed. "Anyway, all the damage to Earth today has been self-inflicted. Maybe from now on they'll leave it to professionals."
As he spoke, the laser boosters on the ground finished their work. The ship was suddenly in free fall, moving more than fast enough to take it into orbit.
"Where are you two heading?" The lunar serviceman had reached across both Spook and Lola with his long arm, making sure that even without their belts they were in no danger of floating across the cabin.
"To Ganymede. Our parents are coming out next week to join us." Lola felt a huge sense of relief. Her worries about Jaime and Theresa Belman had all been unnecessary. "We're taking our vacation there."
"So you'll make your ship transfer when we get to geosynch. That's a couple more hours. Looks like the excitement's all over." He nodded at the port. "By the time we arrive at geosynch everything should be all quiet again."
The flicker of lights had ended. Bright, steady stars were replacing the blooming deep-space explosions.
"I only went to Ganymede once," Coline said, "and I didn't care for it." The slight vibration and the return of partial gravity showed that the ship's own engines were working, lifting them to a higher orbit. Attendants were beginning to move from seat to seat, helping passengers who had thrown up during the free-fall phase. Suddenly it felt like a normal flight. "The natives there are rock rats," he went on, "all of 'em, they don't see the sky more than once a year but they don't seem to miss it. Any idea what you're going to do when you get there?"
"I want to try the Puzzle Network. Ganymede is supposed to have some real hot-shot juniors." Spook had been quiet so far—a first for him, in Lola's experience. But then he had never been to space before. She knew that feeling. During free fall he must have wondered what his stomach was doing.
"Bit young for that, aren't you?" Audie Coline spoke to Spook but winked at Lola, with an expression that said he was more interested in her than he was in her brother. "What are you, ten, eleven?"
"But he's a genius." Lola grinned back. "He'll tell you so himself."
"Quit that!" Spook, wedged between the other two, sat straighter and stuck out his chin. "I've seen the Ganymede problem sets. They're tough, but I can handle them."
"Hardest in the system, I've heard. And the best, if you believe their publicity. But they say they're best in everything." Coline sniffed. "Listen to the Jovian moons, and you'd think Earth, Luna, and Mars are washed up and nothing but old history." He casually reached over and fastened a belt across Lola and Spook. " 'How I spent my Ganymede vacation.' I aced the Puzzle Network. What about you, miss? Any idea what you'll be doing?"
Lola hesitated. She knew what she wanted to do, but was she willing to admit it? Even her parents did not know, but the images had been locked in since the time of her earliest memories: Uncle Wilber, grinning at nothing, frightened of everything, forever on the brink of self-destruction. And his madness had been an unnecessary madness.
"I want to check out the schools," Lola said at last. "I've heard that they have a reputation for—for being good at what I'm interested in."
"And what might that be?"
She had to say it now: "I want to train as a haldane."
That certainly got his attention. "A haldane?" he said. "Do you, indeed. Well, remind me to be careful what I say to you from now on."
It seemed to be the universal reaction—and Audie Coline was being kind. The usual comments were much harsher: "Only someone who is crazy to start with wants to work with crazy people." Or: "You want to be a haldane? How long have you been off your head?" She had better learn to get used to it, or change her career plans.
"But I might not make it." Lola could see the Earth's dark bulk, with the Moon on the horizon beyond it. The ship must have turned on its axis during the ascent. "It's supposed to be really tough. I'll need another five years of training, even if I pass the rest of the entry tests.
And after that—"
She paused. A bright spark of blue light had appeared, not on the Moon's illuminated crescent, but over on the other limb where the disk was supposed to be dark.
"After that?" prompted Coline.
Lola did not reply. She pointed. Two more flecks of flame had sprung into view, close to the first one. Even as she watched, there were others. The Moon was suddenly ablaze, a line of flame spreading rapidly across its dark face like a windblown fire.
Audie Coline had turned casually to follow Lola's gesture. He jerked upright, pushing Spook to one side. "The line!" he exclaimed. "My God, this is impossible. That's the Armageddon defense line!"
His tone and the horror on his face said a lot more to Lola than his words. The scene behind him told even more. The Moon was on fire. A great swath on the lunar surface was burning with the ghastly blue light of nuclear fusion. In the foreground, a matching spark glowed suddenly on Earth's nightside. It was followed by another two, both in the Northern Hemisphere. They grew rapidly, ever brighter. A dozen others appeared—a score, a hundred. The atmosphere itself was beginning to glow in orange-red streaks.
"Is it?" asked Spook.
Lola did not answer—did not want to answer. Because it was. It was war, the unthinkable war between Earth and the Belt that everyone had talked about forever, but that no one had believed could really happen. The Moon was on fire, Earth was on fire. The world was ending.
She and Spook might have a chance to escape. Ganymede was not involved in the Earth/Belt dispute, so a ship heading for Ganymede might be spared. But Mother and Father . . ., they were down there, on the flaming ruin that a few minutes ago had been the peaceful Earth.
She reached out and grasped Spook's hand, hard enough to hurt him. Her mother's instructions had been specific: "Until we arrive, you're in charge. Look after Spook. Don't let him get into trouble. "
He was in trouble. They were all in trouble. Earth and the Moon and the Belt and Mars, now and for years or decades to come. But that did not relieve her of her responsibility.
She was in charge.
Lola stared at Spook's frightened face, and past it to the flaming sky outside the port. She felt the last of her childhood disappear, bleeding away into the harsh emptiness beyond the ship.
THE SOLAR SYSTEM BEFORE AND AFTER THE GREAT WAR (2067 A.D.)
PREWAR
Mercury: Research station for solar studies, occasional science staff.
Venus: Three surface domes, plus research stations and an experimental biosphere: investigations into meteorology, planetology, ecosystems. Permanent staff.
Earth: Population eleven billion.
Luna: Population seven million, plus automated factories.
Mars: Self-sufficient colony, population seventeen million.
Asteroid Belt: Self-sufficient colonies on Ceres, Pallas, Vesta, Juno, Hidalgo, and twenty-seven smaller planetoids. Total population one hundred and seven million.
Jupiter: Interdependent colonies on Ganymede and Callisto, research stations on Europa and Io, unmanned collection vessels in Jovian atmosphere; combined population, Jovian system: eighty-three million.
Saturn: Ganymede-based exploring parties to rings and all major moons. Von Neumanns working on Dione and Titan. No colonies.
Uranus: Smart probes to all major moons; research station proposed for Oberon. No colonies.
POSTWAR
Mercury: Research station lost, no survivors.
Venus: Surface domes lost, no survivors.
Earth: Population two billion in Southern Hemisphere and tropics; Northern Hemisphere uninhabitable.
Luna: Population zero, no production capability.
Mars: Population eight million, self-sufficiency maintained.
Asteroid Belt: Colonies on Ceres, Pallas, Juno. Population nine million, no longer self-sufficient.
Jupiter: Relatively unaffected, except by rapid prewar immigration. Interdependent colonies on Ganymede and Callisto, research stations on Europa and Io, unmanned collection vessels in Jovian atmosphere; combined population, Jovian system: eighty-seven million.
Saturn: Unaffected by war. Ganymede-based exploring parties to rings and all major moons. Von Neumanns working on Dione and Titan. No colonies.
Uranus: Unaffected by war. Smart probes to all major moons, research station proposed for Oberon. No colonies.
5
Ganymede: 2072 A.D.
The Great War was over. It ended just four months after it had begun, in a final cataclysm that shattered the solar system and reshaped it into a new form. Its aftermath would reverberate down the centuries. It was the war to end wars.
Except that wars still went on. This particular one was fought without armies, without hardware, without bloodshed, without reinforcements or mercy or remorse. Its warriors would probably never meet. They were unlikely to know their adversaries' real names, since the Puzzle Network permitted—and encouraged—anonymity.
But the Masters of the Net did not need names. They knew each other very well, at the profound mental level where battles were engaged.
Bat, just two years in the Masters' division, was learning fast. He had advanced to the point where he could recognize a puzzle designed by Claudius, a five-time champion, as surely as if she (he was convinced that Claudius was a woman) had signed her name. She took a unique delight in misdirection, layer after layer of it. Four weeks earlier, Bat had set his own trap, hoping to exploit that misdirection and turn it into a weakness. He was convinced that he had caught her—until she sent back the correct solution, with an added note, "Old age and treachery will defeat youth and skill. Keep trying."
He would. Most of the other Masters fell far short of Claudius, and all of them had their own strange quirks. He would recognize Attoboy, Simple Simon, Gaslight Tattoo, Pack Rat, James the Rose, and Sneak Attack, no matter where or how they appeared, or under what name.
But the Puzzle Network could still offer surprises. One was appearing now, filling his display with four complicated three-dimensional sets of interlocking donuts. The accompanying text read, "Specify connectivity: simply connected or multiply connected?" It was signed Ghost Boy.
The name was unfamiliar, but that meant nothing. Claudius, when she was in an unusually vicious mood, was likely to sign on as Xantippe. Bat normally signed on as Megachirops, but presented his word puzzles as Thersites. The puzzle, not the name, was the thing, the only thing; and this one was a major oddity. The structures were so clearly multiply connected that no one with any self-respect would offer this as a problem at the Masters' level. That suggested two things: First, the puzzle was not what it seemed; and second, a new and distinctive personality had been added to the game.
Rule number one of the Puzzle Network: Use all of the information available to you. Rule number two: There is no such thing as cheating. Bat had his own Rule number three: Know thy enemy. He had a trick that he suspected might be his alone.
First, he checked the response time for Ghost Boy's net access. As he had hoped, it was only a few milliseconds. Therefore, Ghost Boy was somewhere on Ganymede, rather than being an off-world entry. Bat knew the style of the dozen Ganymede Masters. It was unthinkable that Ghost Boy could emerge as a new Master, without years of experience on the Puzzle Network.
And that led to only one possible conclusion: Ghost Boy had been in the net for some time, but he had been promoted recently to the Senior League.
Bat took the next logical step. He did what no self-respecting Master would ever do. He went slumming, dropping down to the Journeyman level in the network and scanning back in time over the past two years.
No sign of Ghost Boy as either a proposer or solver of any puzzles. Which left only the Journeyman puzzles themselves, hundreds and hundreds of them.
Sorting through them was going to take some time. Bat raided his own Bat Cave sweetmeat hoard for orange jujubes, peppermint bonbons, and chocolates, returned to his terminal, and settled happily down to work. It was the middle o
f the night. No one was going to disturb him. Given a good puzzle like this, with its promise of yet another puzzle if he solved it, the idea of boredom or fatigue was unthinkable.
* * *
Five hours later, he had it. A dozen Journeyman puzzles involved odd topological elements similar to those of Ghost Boy's problem. They were hard to solve, and it was even more difficult to imagine how someone of the Journeyman class had managed to dream them up in the first place. But each puzzle had been proposed by a player named The Snark, and the most recent came three months ago.
Obviously, The Snark and Ghost Boy were one and the same. He had changed his name when he moved to the Masters' level. And just as obviously, the earlier puzzles were going to tell Bat enough about the workings of Ghost Boy's mind to solve the most recent one.
But not easily. It was another two hours before Bat groaned, raised his eyes to stare at the ceiling, and whispered a single word: "Dimensionality!"
The Snark was devising his puzzles in spaces of a higher dimension, the fourth or fifth or higher, and then projecting down to three dimensions. The way to solve them was to reverse the process, imagining Ghost Boy's sets of interlocking figures as cross sections of some higher-dimensional structure.
It still wasn't easy to solve this latest one, but now it was possible. Bat stared at nothing until he was sure that the entire puzzle construct, viewed in four dimensions, had no holes or reentry features. Finally, he wrote that the puzzle was "simply connected in 4-D," signed his solution Megachirops, and sent it off.
He didn't expect a reply. For one thing, it was many hours into the standard Ganymede sleep cycle; for another, Puzzle Network protocol did not call for answers.
The Ganymede Club Page 6